Rebuilding myself and my life after decades within an abusive family situation. I survived, but I plan to thrive … blogging about physical and mental health; wellbeing; social justice; creative arts; and more
I have missed this but it just hasn’t been possible to run on top of everything else lately. the last two weeks have been jam-packed with appointments – dentist, physiotherapist, GP, nurse, advocacy worker, NHS clinical psychotherapist for parts three and four of an assessment, voluntary sector trauma counsellor, dishwasher repair chap, new windows quotation chap (quoting for my landlord not me) and eating disorder support group.
I’ve also been establishing new routines to take into account my daily physiotherapy exercise regime, journalling – for planning/organisation plus recovery and self management, daily mediation, daily ‘Morning Pages’, daily connection with five friends by means of an online group chat, and a daily food intake diary.
I couldn’t remember what pace I ran at last time but I did remember that I ran for five and half minutes. I knew that I’d need to start slowly and build up again, frustrating but necessary. I wondered if I could do the same amount but in two shorter runs. I settled on doing two three minute runs. I settled on running at 4.2mph, I’ve just checked and my last was actually run at 3.7mph.
I ran for three minutes, I enjoyed it and I’m very glad to be back on the treadmill again but I’ve realised that three minutes was enough for today.
As at today, all Priority 2 tasks are now either complete or underway … yay! I have also taken a couple of tentative steps towards actioning some Priority 3 tasks.
I have had no further support since my friend’s unexpected intervention on the 10th June, except for the monthly visit of the woman I pay to help with cleaning tasks. I had three relatively good weeks then had three very challenging weeks due to a number of stressful events and by the end of the week before last was again struggling with suicidal feelings partly because I was overloaded and lacking support, but also because of the apparent impact of perimenopausal issues on my mood (I’ll cover this in a separate post). However, I managed to hold on and pulled through. Last week was altogether better and had a moment of real high! I’ll cover that in a separate post.
I am writing most days – if not here, then in my journal. I haven’t done any work on my novel project recently but still without support my capacity is much reduced and there’s only so much that I can do. I am doing as much as I possibly can.
I have felt much less lonely overall, although I am aware that I am still largely isolated. In the seven weeks since my friend’s intervention, I’ve had one other visit from a friend and maybe five phone chats. I have taken the initiative and I am connecting much more with friends (almost all of whom live at a distance) via social networks. I post daily updates. I reach out when I need support and usually receive comments with virtual (((hugs))). Sometimes someone will chat via a messaging app. I am keeping in touch and not allowing myself to withdraw. One friend hopes to visit in September/October which would be lovely. Today has been difficult. I reached out specifically asking for contact yesterday and today, but there hasn’t been anyone around for anything more than a virtual (((hug))) or wave. When loneliness creeps in it does make things harder, but I keep busy and distracted as much as my ‘spoonieness’ will allow. At the worst moments I hunker down for a while. My calendar is as full as I can sensibly make it for the coming month. Perhaps by the end of the month or the start of the next, we can hope, social care support will finally be in place to pick up the slack, allowing me more freedom to get and out and build more of a life, and giving me regular twice weekly contact at home.
Rarely are two days the same so daily routines do vary but are generally good now. I’ve only failed to shower on a handful of very difficult days. I am mostly on top of chores – but need help to catch up with the mountain of laundry and some cleaning tasks. Luckily, I am very tidy and organised and that helps a lot.
Self care has improved steadily in the last seven weeks and exponentially so in the last week following a couple of significant appointments (more in a separate post)
My ability to get out and about has also approved steadily and continues to do so. I am happy with my progress.
The routine inspection by my landlord’s agent was successfully carried out some weeks ago. My landlord himself, who lives overseas, will make an annual visit at the end of next month. If support isn’t in place in time, I will no doubt stress and overstretch myself ensuring that the flat is in entirely immaculate order.
I’ve been to the GP a couple of times and had the necessary tests. There are ongoing issues, I’ll cover that in a separate post at some point.
I am still without support for my eating disorder. However, I have made progress by myself. Progress has been steadyish and, more recently, certainly significant. I hope to join a local branch of OverEaters Anonymous but at the moment I don’t have the ‘spoons’ to attend its evening meetings. Evening outings are only possible if I rest for most of that day and each Tuesday I’ve had other commitments. I’ve recently discovered that Beat, the eating disorder charity, runs an weekly support group online. I’ve registered and I’m waiting for my registration to be processed. I will write a separate post about my weight and eating issues; they warrant it.
Psychotherapy/Trauma Therapy – there is a lot to say about that! Suffice to say for now that some significant progress has been made both in terms of provision and with my interim therapist.
I have resumed physiotherapy treatment – again a separate post is warranted. My treadmill routine got derailed by a lack of ‘spoons’ and being so busy elsewhere with appointments but I am determined to restart it on Monday.
I saw my dentist last week, had a fabulous appointment, I will blog about it soon and its relation to my recovery from abuse. I have a further appointment next month.
I’m due to have my eyes tested and get much-needed new specs next week.
I should be making a renewed application for Personal Independence Payments (P.I.P) in the next two weeks.
I have tried to return to a weekly support group for women who’ve experienced mental illness/trauma in the last couple of weeks but was thwarted by my ‘spoon’ count. Third time lucky this week, I hope.
Still without support, it is very difficult to keep all the necessary balls in the air. Some things are working well, while others are not. Some things work well for a time then fall by the wayside because something else has to take priority. The advent of support should see the emergence of some consistency and sustainability … both of which currently feel akin to the fabled gold at the end of the rainbow!
Thank you for reading. I’m sorry that this turned out to be more than a bite-sized post. Either I am just a waffler or there really is masses going on! I actually feel like I’ve written a lot but failed to convey all that is going on. Perhaps because I am tired.
Comments as ever are very welcome and appreciated. Do let me know that you are reading and that I’m not just talking to myself 😀 .
I’m not someone who is driven by money, money, money. I’ve no desire to amass great piles of it, and I struggle with the idea of people having vast fortunes way beyond any person’s need.
It is very nice to have enough money, by that I mean enough to live comfortably, to pay one’s way in life and to be able to live a fulfilling life.
I haven’t been able to undertake paid employment for quite some time due to ill health and the process of ‘trauma recovery’. The latter can in itself be a full time occupation. I was in paid employment as a broadcast journalist when I met the man who became my husband and I was able to contribute to our union, but he went on to support me financially for some years due to my ill health.
I’ve been in receipt of welfare support or benefits for a little over a year and a half now. Obtaining them is a stressful, arduous and sometimes dehumanising experience. Some months after my marriage broke down, I found myself unable to afford to heat my home or buy food. A couple of friends helped out but I had to rely on food parcels for three months, from one of the UK’s growing number of food banks.
I receive Employment and Support Allowance (£250 per fortnight), Housing Benefit (£500pcm) and a discount on my council tax bill meaning that I pay around £30 per month instead of more than £100. My rent costs £670pcm. I live in a one bedroom flat. It’s not ‘flash’ but it’s certainly comfortable. It could be cheaper if I were to move, but this is the first truly safe home I’ve known. It’s my haven. I don’t have the money for moving costs and waiting lists are long for local authority-owned property.
With the support of the JC, I have been able to have my hair cut and coloured this week for the first time in over a year. What?! I know, you might hardly consider a ‘hair do’ an ‘essential’. It was a scraggy, greying mess and together with my alopecia (I have female pattern balding) it was having a big impact on my self esteem. I am happier and healthier for it.
I was also able to visit the dentist, after many months, for a much-needed appointment, because I finally had the £20 needed to pay the fee I owed for a short notice cancellation due to illness.
I’ve been able to make an appointment to have my eyes tested next month, two years overdue, because I will have the money to pay for the new spectacles I need. They will be available at a reduced rate because I am in receipt of ESA but will not be free.
I’ve also been able to buy a number of healthy ‘ready meals’ – a ‘godsend’ while I continue to wait for social care support twice a week to be put in place, and continue to struggle to have the capacity for cooking. The healthy part is vital, particularly as I continue to try to recover from an eating disorder.
On a few occasions I was able to take a taxi to get me to vital hospital and GP appointments that I would otherwise have been unable to make due to my health issues, and also to return home from buying food from a budget supermarket. Budget supermarkets do not make deliveries.
Without that charitable support … NONE of these things could have happened.
I have received support from the St Margaret’s Fund who gave me £200 towards the cost of a respite/convalescent break last year. I’m applying to another organisation in order to try to obtain funds for a similar break this year.
It is charity. I would rather not have to rely on it BUT at the same time I don’t feel ashamed about accepting it. I don’t find it easy to ask for that help but that’s because I know that in our society it does carry some sense of shame. People say things like ‘it’s not charity’ and they try to dress up ‘charitable support’ in some other way, as though accepting charity is a terrible thing to do. I’ve supported many charities, by donation and by fundraising, and I still donate, when I can, although just a pound or two here or there, supporting someone’s fundraising effort or buying a copy of the Big Issue. I believe in giving and I believe in sharing and I believe in a society that promotes opportunity for all, and which supports those who are in need.
Applying for the charitable support that I’ve received involves completing detailed application forms. I have often struggled to do this due to illness and have had to wait until such time as I could find just enough capacity to complete the task.
It’s struck me that much of the support available has a middle class tone. I was born and bred in a working class ‘cotton mill town’. I consider myself to be working class, but I know that many working class people would consider me middle class because of my privilege. I had a university education and have a professional qualification. I live in a middle class area, albeit on the edge of it and that of a ‘poorer’ area. I love literature, theatre, arts, read the Guardian newspaper and listen to BBC Radio 4. I consider those interests classless – I’ve loved all of them, with the exception of Radio 4, since my ‘cotton mill childhood’ (when I listened to Radio 1!) – BUT realistically I know that you need a certain amount of privilege to pursue them. It’s rare now that I go to the theatre because of the cost involved.
It seems that there’s privilege even among those who are poor. There is a charity offering financial support to ‘gentlewomen and artists’. I’ve seen others offering support to ‘gentlewomen’. Their definitions of what constitutes a ‘gentlewoman’ are undeniably middle class. They list ‘suitable’ professions and backgrounds, all of which you need to have had a certain amount of privilege to be able to claim. Being working class can considerably narrow one’s opportunities. A minority of students at Oxbridge come from working class or ethnically diverse backgrounds and that’s just one example.
What happens if you don’t belong to a profession with its own charitable body? What happens if you don’t have the means to discover that there are charitable organisations who may be able to help you regardless of your status, professional or otherwise? What happens if you don’t have Internet access, the default application process is now online, or aren’t even computer literate? I don’t envy those who must throw themselves entirely at the mercy of the state, run by many for whom privilege is everything.
Two links to UK based web sites that may be useful:
https://www.turn2us.org.uk/ – much useful information for people struggling financially and there is a section where you can search for organisations offering grants
http://www.disability-grants.org/grants-for-disabled-women.html – a database of organisations offering a variety of financial support to women with disabilities – the main site offers details for men too!
I love ABBA but I adore Meryl Streep, that’s the reason for the link to the Mamma Mia film version of the song at the top of this post!
I wish Admin. were an exciting place where I was having the time of my life.
Rebuilding my life after months in the depths of crisis is exciting. It feels really good to be making progress but, I’ll admit, the administration side of the process can be more wearying than any other – emails, calls, forms, research … chasing this person … approaching that organisation … researching grants … and trying to make head or tail of the personal budgets/direct payments system in the ongoing quest for social care support.
In the last couple of days alone I’ve …
sent three emails to my social worker
spent considerable time and ‘spoons’ researching support and treatment options outside of the NHS for my eating disorder. and drawn a blank beyond the one option I already knew about which may not be suitable.
sent two emails regarding a local women’s support group – one a brief testimonial to support the application for funds to keep it going – another to update on my circumstances and inform the facilitator when I hope to be well enough to return.
researched organisations offering grants for a convalescence/respite break, sought advice about my eligibility, printed application forms, and contacted health professionals to try to find one who could spare the time to make an application on behalf, as that’s how the system works.
undertaken an online ‘test’ for Personal Independence Payments and carried out various tasks in preparation for making a new application, having been turned down last year. For those to whom it’s relevant, the test is here.
spent time making notes and trying to prioritise the many current ‘hot potatoes’ and decide what to take to my therapy session earlier today, in order to make the best use of the 50 minute slot.
emailed regarding restarting vital dental treatment stalled by serious illness.
made numerous checklists to keep track of it all.
This week I still …
need to contact several organisations and another person with disabilities who lives locally to try to get some clarity over the best option for me with the (haha) administration of the personal budget/direct payments – and all this before it’s even been confirmed that my application for funding – made by the social worker after several hours of assessment – has been approved. This is because the process is lengthy, and I’m told it will be further slowed if I’m not ready to go if/when approval is granted.
need to keep in touch with friends – replying to emails, messages, tweets and so forth. This isn’t a chore. I want to be in touch, I appreciate their contact and it’s vital to my health and wellbeing, particularly as isolation and loneliness are a prominent factor in my life and have had a detrimental impact on my health. That said these tasks still take time and ‘spoons’.
need to contact the charitable body which, last year, granted me funding for physiotherapy – it wasn’t available on the NHS. I had an assessment in February and was set to have a further 11 sessions when crisis hit and it had to be put on hold. I can’t even begin to explain the admin. now involved in trying to sort out a restart – both you and I would lose the will to live.
there’s further admin. relating to budgeting and welfare payments
there’s a mix up with my energy supplier – which owes me money – need to try to resolve that
there’s an energy ‘switch’ to organise in order to avoid a price hike
there are trips to the GP and hospital which currently necessitate various emails and texts to organise advocacy support where appropriate, or someone to ‘chum me’ there if that’s necessary,
tomorrow there’s a visit from my landlord’s agent for a routine inspection.
Blimey, I feel weary just telling you about it, and that’s not all of it but you get the idea 😀 !
My limited ‘spoons’ have to go a long way. I wish the blessed admin would do itself and I could focus on everything else that needs my attention like therapy, exercise, my eating disorder and other aspects of recovery and self management, getting out and about, dental treatment, writing, etc, not to mention the mere basics of daily living.
I think I needed to get that off my chest. Thanks for bearing with me!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not calling my GP an ogre, he’s surely a nice enough chap, but after the events of last year, going to see him again was about as scary as standing before a ravenous ogre with a particular taste for ‘Hearts’ about my size and shape.
The only available appointment was at 10am. Any appointment before 11 always presents additional challenges because my morning routine is lengthy due to the requirements of my Bile Acid Malabsorption and also issues around sedation, pain and mobility that are particularly problematic when I wake. I made it past those, and past anxiety around getting out for the first time in four months – too complex to detail.
‘Debriefing’ afterwards, my advocacy worker, who accompanied me, commented that there was marked difference in my GP’s response to my discussion of my mental health and of my physical health. He said nothing in response to the former. She said his expression could’ve said … well, what do you want me to do about it? By contrast, presented with physical symptoms he leapt into action, examined my abdomen, listened to my chest and took my blood pressure … twice. He ordered tests, including an E.C.G. and prescribed several medications, and appeared thorough.
Discussing a gastric issue, I described my symptoms and said that I’m aware that my weight gain may have caused them or at least be a contributing factor. He agreed, said that I was right and that it would help if I could do something about that. I didn’t pick him up on it, and perhaps I should have done. I did feel disappointed, if not a little angry, given that I have an eating disorder and that I asked for help – clearly and directly – so many times last year and yet I received none. I understand that he cannot ‘magic resources out of thin air’ where services have been reduced or cut, but I really would appreciate an acknowledgement both of much I am trying to help myself, and that I haven’t been offered any help or support. My weight and related issues will be being discussed when we next meet and I hope then to have the confidence to say that.
I’ve blogged and tweeted recently about my ‘flaring’ skin. A first episode occurred around five or six weeks ago when I woke to find my eyes puffy and my skin reddened and itchy. I suspected eczema but noted that the usual emollients gave me a burning sensation. It was annoying and didn’t look great but it wasn’t horrendous and it cleared up after a few days. A couple of weeks later I had another episode but this time the skin around my eyes was more swollen than puffy and I suspected an allergic reaction, but I couldn’t pinpoint what might have caused one. On Wednesday last week I woke again to a red face and swollen skin around my eyes. Like me, my GP suspected eczema or an allergy and he prescribed hydrocortisone cream.
In the hours after my appointment, my face became increasingly red and a little more swollen, by the evening it was burning which felt very unpleasant and was difficult to manage. The following day I awoke and gasped in shock when I looked in the mirror and saw that my whole face was swollen. I could barely open my right eye and the left was also affected. The areas where I’d felt the intense burning sensation – mostly around my mouth and under my eyes – now felt very tight and had become extremely dry. I was able to speak to my GP on the phone later that morning and he opted to additionally prescribe an anti-histamine and a specialist moisturising lotion. All of the new medications were delivered on Friday evening by the delightful ‘Pharmacy Bob’, who was concerned about me, with my bright red, ballooned visage. The swelling slowly reduced over the weekend and the redness decreased somewhat, then my face began to peel, everywhere but for the top half of my forehead and the sides of my face, and continues to do so. I have been liberally applying moisturiser and, thankfully, today when I had to go out to an appointment with one of the practice nurses, it looks better than it did.
I have some concerns about the cause of this skin issue related to my other diagnoses, but I’ll blog about that once I have the results of the tests that the GP has ordered.
I asked my GP if I might return to using my treadmill as I want to do, promising that I would not try to run before I could walk. I am MUCH heavier than I was when I took up running in 2014. I have no idea what I will be able to achieve this time around. Building up to being able to do a brisk walk will at least help me to lose weight, it may be that I will not be able to run until I’ve done so. I wondered if I might be advisable to wait until the tests have been carried out, but the GP said that he’s happy for me to start before that, so long as I’m careful.
Sleep was brief, around four hours, but surprisingly restorative. I didn’t have the ‘spoons’ for this morning’s planned soak in the bath but was able to shower thanks to my bath board. It’s a disability aid that I was reluctant to take possession of last year but which is actually worth its weight in gold.
I spent some time menu planning – breakfasts, lunches and dinners – yesterday evening. Having a plan is beneficial on many levels not least in beginning to tackle my eating disorder, promoting self care and maximising my tight budget. Variety, satisfaction and healthy options are key to the former. As I said here, when ‘spoons’ run low cooking so often falls off my to do list. I’m making it a priority as one of my first steps out of this current crisis. Some old favourites will feature on the plan together with some new recipes. Here’s a selection:
Baked eggs with mushrooms and spinach
Courgette and potato soup
Chocolate orange porridge
Three bean pate
Porridge Berry Bakes
Sweet potato wedges with homemade houmous
Mushroom and herb pearl barley risotto
Quesadillas – most likely cheese and bean
Lemon and dill courgette with broccoli rice, houmous & salad
Yes, I did buy a large box of ‘Basics’ mushrooms and large bag of ‘Basics’ courgettes and have been hunting ‘spoonie’ friendly courgette recipes!
Today’s breakfast was an old favourite from the Hairy Dieters – crumpets with warmed berries, fat free Greek yoghurt and a drizzle of honey.
Lunch was herby mushrooms and tomatoes on toast, followed by a banana.
In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t eat meat. Dinner was a bowl of the Chilli Non Carne that I made this evening. My recipe varies according to budget and what I’ve got in. This version used the following:
1 large red onion
1 small red bell pepper
1 small green bell pepper
A handful of mushrooms
A carton of ‘Basics’ chopped tomatoes
A tin of ‘Basics ‘ baked beans
A tin of ‘Basics’ red kidney beans
A cheat’s sachet of chilli seasoning together with my own ‘everyday’ seasoning
A packet of Granose dried soya mince.
I bought several packs of the soya mince while it was on offer and much cheaper than Quorn or generic chilled varieties. You reconstitute it with boiling water then treat as normal. It does not look appetitising when first made up but tastes good in the finished product!
I’m really shattered and virtually out of ‘spoons’. Emptying the dishwasher of last night’s load and putting in today’s dishes has to wait until tomorrow. The chilli prep and cooking takes a fair amount of ‘spoons’, and by the time I finish I’m very sore, luckily it will make a few meals. My Fibromyalgia had already rendered me very stiff today, so when I stand up I can’t straighten up at first and have to painfully unfurl pace by slow pace. In these moments I laugh at my predicament to help me to deal with it.
I’ve just enjoyed watching MasterChef. I do admire the cooking adventures of the participants. I smiled tonight at the appearance of ‘whey-glazed carrots’ … they’re waaaay beyond my culinary ambition! But seriously, if posting photos of your daily meals and basic cooking efforts seems dull or even narcissistic, I can say only that it’s integral to my thrust for recovery. I can’t remember the last time I ate three good meals in a day, let alone made three virtually from scratch. Posting in this way, in celebration of my efforts, is motivating and a useful record of my progress. Perhaps, somewhere along the line, my posts might help someone else too.
9:50pm I’ve been pyjama’d and under the covers since a little after 8 but I’m determined to complete and publish this post tonight. I’ve had to rewrite half of it after WordPress gobbled it and refused to give it back. I suspect I’ll sleep tonight, but it might be an idea to take painkillers to try to limit the risk of #painsomnia.
I was able to meet with my advocate this afternoon for the first time in over two months. This is a huge deal. I’ve made many attempts to meet with her since mid February but overwhelming trauma symptoms forced me to cancel each time. She visited me at home together with one of her colleagues, both were so lovely. I had written notes ahead of their arrival. We had a productive meeting It felt safe, and to feel any sense of safety at all, after the devastating events of last year, is progress. I’ve yet to regain real hope for the future – something I thought couldn’t be shattered, after all I’ve survived so much, but last year’s events broke me – however, I’m focusing on an idea that was once very helpful to me … You don’t have to see the top of the staircase to take the first step.
My advocate and I have made a plan of initial steps. We’ll speak on Monday and arrange a further meeting.
Note: I wrote most of this post on Sunday but became swamped by trauma symptoms and wasn’t able to finish it until today, Wednesday 5th.
My belly is full of wholemeal toast, eggs scrambled with spring onions and cheddar, seasoned with a dash of sea salt and lashings of black pepper.
I’m not a food writer nor do I aspire to be one, but I am inspired by at least two of them. My favourites, Jack Monroe and Ella Risbridger started out as bloggers, before books and the world of traditional publishing beckoned.
Until I reached ‘middle-age’ I had no real cooking confidence. I blogged about that and how that changed, here.
I have a difficult relationship with food. I have an eating disorder. There, I’ve said it, that wasn’t all that difficult was it? Actually, you know what, it really was; it’s difficult for me to be open about it.
I’ve probably had a tendency to struggle with food for most of my life, but there have been two periods where that struggle became a full blown eating disorder.The reason it’s so difficult for me to discuss isn’t because I feel ashamed about it in myself. I recognise it as an illness and accept that the trauma and abuse that I’ve experienced lie at the root of it. However, I am aware of the stigma that it carries.
Many people, including some medical professionals, scoff (I know, I couldn’t resist the ironic pun) at the very idea that binge-eating disorderis described as an eating ‘disorder’ at all. I’m just fat and greedy, right? If you don’t agree with that last statement, you might be surprised by how many people would.
Beat, the UK’s leading charity providing support for, and campaigning about, eating disorders, has this to say: “Binge eating disorder (BED) is a serious mental illness where people experience a loss of control and overeat on a regular basis.” You can read more on the Beat web site, here.
In recent years ‘fat-shaming’ has become ‘a thing’ and some have fought back against those who seek to mock, deride or in any way bully someone who is overweight. An element of ‘fat pride’ has emerged, with a rise in plus-size bloggers and models.
I’d like to be fat and proud. That’s not because I’m happy being so overweight, I’m not in the least, and that’s entirely because of the impact that it has on my health and fitness. I’d like to have that ‘fat-pride’ while I remain this size because I do not want to feel shamed or otherwise negatively regarded because of my size.
I’m never going to be without curves, that’s the way I’m built. I’m a pear-shaped woman with an ample bosom. I’ll gladly celebrate those curves, in the way that I’d encourage anyone to be body confident; body positive.
I want to beat my eating disorder and lose weight. I want to regain, and revel in, my fitness because of the positive impact that is has on my life. I did beat the disorder the first time around. I did it without help, not because I was trying to go it alone but because I wasn’t offered any. After regaining some control over my eating patterns, it was some years before I was able to lose the weight I’d gained as result of the disorder. I did it between 2011 and 2012, losing five stone.
I was inspired by the ‘Hairy Dieters’ television programmes, they focus on that old chestnut, a low calorie diet and increased exercise. The hairy ones aim to make low calorie options that taste good and satisfy. It takes effort to lose weight and every bit of incentive you can muster really helps.
After leaving my husband, I took up running in early 2014. In reality I took to walking on my treadmill and slowly built up to being able to run a mile a day, but ‘I took up ‘treadmilling” doesn’t have the same ring to it. (Click on ‘treadmill’ in the tag cloud on my blog homepage, if you’re interested in reading about my route to running.) I’ve NEVER been ‘sporty’ but I really grew to love running, or more likely the endorphins that the activity released, that and the vast improvement in my fitness and my body confidence.
I’m probably not quite back at my heaviest ever weight, I can’t be sure because my scales have broken and I can’t afford to replace them, but as a result of this relapse into an eating disorder, and so months spent in the grip of compulsive eating, I’ve gained at least six stones in weight over a period of around 18 months.
Last year I asked for help via my GP surgery and the Intensive Home Treatment Team (mental healrh out patient crisis service) many times, and with increasing desperation. I knew that this time I needed help to beat it. Despite my massive weight gain in a short space of time and a new diagnosis of very high cholesterol levels, I’ve been offered no help ar all.
My trauma therapist said we could do some work around my eating issues, but given we already have so many other high priorities stacked up, that’s not practical. The Intensive Home Treatment Team psychiatrist promised to speak to the local eating disorders service about the possibility of support for me there. She told me that she’d get back to me. I chased it up when she didn’t and was rudely told that I’d already been told “NO”. I wasn’t in a position to argue and didn’t receive any fuller explanation.
At least my GP’s urgent referral for trauma therapy had got me onto a two year waiting list … I love the NHS but have long found its mental health services to be chronically underfunded and often poorly staffed, and it’s trauma services (that’s the psychological version not A&E) rarer than hens’ teeth. Again and again I’ve turned to the voluntary (charity) sector, itself often cash-strapped with services oversubscribed. As a result, services often receive scant advertising.Many hours of research can be required to uncover what might be available, and then often complicated application processes follow. Recently I bagged a place on a waiting list for a ‘trauma support worker’ – essentially, someone to meet once or twice a month who can provide moral support, guidance and practical help as you work to rebuild your life. I’m due to reach the top of that list in early 2019.
But back to the impact of the eating disorder, I think that I’m now the most unfit that I’ve ever been, and that does not feel good AT ALL. In fact, it’s really rather frightening, the detrimental impact on my health is evident.
I am beginning to cultivate a more positive connection to food, and the beginnings of this new relationship were nurtured by those food bloggers, Jack and Ella.
Jack’s engaging blog began when poverty forced Jack to feed themself and their toddler son (Jack identifies as non-binary and so prefers the gender neutral pronoun ‘their’) for £10 a week. Jack’s no-nonsense style and inventive recipes are budget-conscious and also an excellent resource for.anyone seeking the confidence to cook from scratch.
Ella’s writing is more lyrical, hers is the poetry of food writing. Sometimes high-falutin’ ingredients could be off-putting if you’re a beginner or more especially if you’re low on funds. I’ve yet to try an Ella recipe, but still I savour her blog. I’m along for the ride, vicariously living her altogether nourishing relationship with food and cooking, and learning from it.
What both Jack and Ella have in common is that they have both introduced me to the idea that preparing nutritious food for myself can be a healing endeavour. The process of preparing and cooking food, chopping, stirring, whisking, can, and should be, a mindful, meditative experience, allowing for calm concentration and a break from a traumatised, troubled, or simply busy mind. You savour the process as much as the end result. There’s also achievement and satisfaction in both admiring and eating your creation, however small or simple! Cooking for oneself can be a nourishing experience, not just for the body, but also for the mind.
I particularly enjoy making Jack’s easy peasy Coconut Milk Soda Bread. Jack’s description of rocking a warm, snuggly bundle is my idea of a great twist on ‘comfort food’!
This weekend I’ve discovered the joy of baked eggs all kinds of ways.
I also tried a Sainsbury’s recipe for a healthy snack – roasted chickpeas – simply a can of chickpeas drained, patted dry and mixed with a teaspoon of smoked paprika, a teaspoon of chilli powder and a quarter teaspoon of both cumin and ground coriander, then roasted in the oven I really fancied these savoury nuggets but was disappointed with the results. I’d been expecting the promised crunchy snack but in reality felt I could’ve been eating cardboard!
Put chickpeas to better use and make your own houmous, it’s a gazillion times more healthy than shop-bought versions and tastes great. The easy recipe in the Healthy Living Yearbook is another favourite of mine.
I may have Complex Trauma but I’m not a complex cook; I’m a ‘spoonie’! Unfortunately, cooking often falls off the bottom off my to do list when ‘spoons’- a.k.a energy and the capacity to function – run out.Quick and easy recipes are my way to go.
I’ll discuss my efforts to again overcome an eating disorder together with my hopes for and also my reservations about seeking support via Overeaters Anonymous, in a later post.